


that which we are, we are

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, M/M, Non-TGC Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:44:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: "We're quite a pair, ain't we?" Eggsy says. This is his life now. New house, new boyfriend, new suits hanging in the closet. He'll take it.





	that which we are, we are

This is Eggsy's life now. New house, new boyfriend, new suits hanging in the closet. Same old job, though. Same old mates, same old cranky Scottish quartermaster.

There's a hell of a lot of cleaning-up to do. He and Roxy have a contest to see who can shovel the most debris one day. He ends up with an icepack on his shoulder and blisters on his hands, and he still didn't even win.

He's okay with that.

His mum buys him a new tie. Harry gives him a tiepin that's got about a mile of strong, super thin cable curled up inside. Perfect for turning into a lasso and using to rappel down the side of some building he's not supposed to be on top of. Or garroting someone. Whatever.

They have their first meeting since everything went to hell. Tristan says he should show a little more respect. Percival says to hell with that. They all end up at the pub, getting totally pissed. Eggsy's memory of that night is a little bleary, but he's pretty sure Tristan ruffled his hair at one point. Which is fine, because Eggsy is fairly certain he threw up in Tristan's car.

It's all good.

****

This is not a comic book. This is life, where people get old, get sick, even fucking die on you. One day at dinner Harry says to him, "I'm not sure this is such a good idea. You have your whole life ahead of you. In ten years, perhaps more if we are lucky, you will not be my lover or my partner or whatever term is in vogue then. You will be my caretaker."

Eggsy sets his fork down and says, "Oh my fucking God, could we at least finish dinner before you get all weepy and melodramatic?"

Harry stiffens up like someone just shoved something up his ass. (And Eggsy would know.) "I beg your pardon." His voice could be chopped into cubes and dropped into Eggsy's drink. "I am neither weepy nor melodramatic."

"Coulda fooled me," Eggsy says.

"I am trying to be serious," Harry says.

"So am I," Eggsy says. "Look. I don't fucking care how old you are. I don't fucking care how old you're _gonna_ be. What I care about is exactly what I got: you. Right here. Right now."

Harry blinks. "Well," he says. He still sounds rather prim, but there's more warmth there now. "I suppose you do."

Eggsy tosses him a grin, asks him to please pass the garlic bread, and that's the end of that.

****

This is what Eggsy says when Harry sends the signal that no one at Kingsman wants to receive. "Fuck that. And fuck you too, Merlin, if you think I'm going to sit here and do nothing."

The coded message means, _I am in trouble and there is no way out of this. Do not send anyone._ It came from Harry's glasses ten minutes ago. Ten minutes isn't really all that long. It takes longer than that to heat up a pizza in the oven. In the field, though, ten minutes is an eternity. Harry might already be dead.

"Did I say you should do nothing?" Merlin says. He sounds insulted.

"Don't care," Eggsy says. Already he's headed for the armoury; Merlin is only a few paces behind him. "I'm going."

"Well, then you'll need this."

He turns around and sees Merlin holding something. It's small and round. It looks like a pound. It is in fact an explosive device.

Eggsy pockets the bomb, momentarily thankful that he doesn't have any money on him at the moment. It would really fucking suck if he grabbed the wrong coin at the wrong time.

"Good luck," Merlin says.

Eggsy nods and strides off.

****

"This is what happens when you go out in the field!" Eggsy yells. "How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?"

"I suppose the same way you deal with everything," Harry says. The words are only a little bit slurred behind the bruises. "With the same courage and fortitude I saw in you on the very first day we met."

"That's—" Eggsy stops yelling, take a breath, and gives in to one more shout. "Fuck!" He glares at Harry sitting there so calm and innocent in his bed. He's the only one in the infirmary. Of course. They're barely even running missions again. "That's not fair. How the fuck do you do that every time?"

"Do what?" Harry still looks so innocent, the way he did in the Black Prince all those months ago, the old grandpa with an umbrella and the scary-as-shit ability to kill with his bare hands.

"Make me feel like an arse," Eggsy grumps. 

"If it makes you feel any better," Harry says, "I'm the one who felt like a complete idiot when I saw you. I realised I could have got myself out of that situation if only I had kept my head."

Eggsy stops. He didn't expect this. "So why didn't you?"

"Because I was thinking about you," Harry says. "And what would happen to you if I—"

"Oh no you don't!" Eggsy says and he's yelling again, stopping just short of yammering out the kind of gibberish Daisy used to chant as a baby. He launches himself forward and onto the bed. Carefully, though. "Don't you fucking say it."

The kiss is a bit bloody, but it's worth it. Eventually, when he's allowed to talk again, even Harry says so.

****

This is what Eggsy gets for standing in the rain, waiting for his contact to show up. A super fucking annoying stuffed up nose, wet trouser cuffs, and a cold cup of coffee that was barely warm to begin with.

"Why the fuck am I the one doing this?" he mutters.

"Because Lancelot is in Greece," Merlin says in his ear. "And also because you were volunteered."

Eggsy makes a face that Merlin can't see. He knows perfectly well who "volunteered" him for this mission. "Where is he, anyway?"

"According to the report I have, he should be leaving the office soon and headed your way," Merlin says helpfully.

"Not the 'he' I was referring to, but thanks," Eggsy says. He even manages a little bit of grace there at the end, so Merlin knows he does actually appreciate the information.

Merlin says nothing to this. Bastard.

"Excuse me," says a voice behind him, and what the _fuck_ is this? How did he get there without Eggsy even seeing him? "I wondered if you might happen to know the time. I'm afraid my phone died and I left my glasses at home so I can't read the time on the bank clock that's literally just across the street."

Eggsy's facing him by the end of this. He's over his first astonishment, and lets nothing show on his face. He's a trained professional, after all. "When did you get here?"

"Nearly fifteen minutes ago," Harry says. "It's lucky for you I'm not working for the enemy."

"You might as well be," Eggsy sniffs. "Sending me out here like this." A gust of wind blows rain under his umbrella and he shivers, only partially out of sheer pique.

For a moment Harry nearly smiles, then he catches himself. All the same, there's a gleam in his eye. 

"Fuck," Eggsy says with feeling. "Mr. Fancy Contact ain't coming, is he?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry says. "I believe he's being arrested as we speak."

Eggsy's eyes widen. "Why the fuck didn't you say that before?"

"I didn't want to ruin the surprise," Harry says. "By the way, our car is four blocks down."

They start walking together, two men beneath the drizzle wearing nearly identical black overcoats. Harry walks in front, a man who asked a question of a stranger, received his answer, and is now going on about his day. Eggsy sips at his gross coffee, grimaces, and tosses it into the nearest bin. He looks around, sights another Starbucks down the road, and heads in that direction. It just so happens to be the same direction that Harry is moving in.

He sniffles and wishes he had a tissue. Oh well. He still fucking loves his job.

****

This is Eggsy's life now. New car, new husband, new pair of shoes to replace the ones that JB chewed up. Oxfords, of course. Never brogues.

"What would you like to do today?" Harry asks.

Eggsy shrugs. His shoulder blade digs into Harry's chest. "Dunno."

The room smells of sex and that new laundry detergent Harry bought last week. It makes Eggsy sneeze; he doesn't really like it. "Weren't you gonna try to make that soufflé thing?"

"Oh yes," Harry says mildly. His chin rests on the top of Eggsy's head, moving up and down as he speaks, digging into Eggsy's skull ever so slightly. Eggsy doesn't mind. "There's just one small problem. I'm not actually sure if I have all the ingredients."

Eggsy hums in agreement. He doesn't particularly want to run down to the shop today either. It's rare enough for them both to have a day off at the same time. To waste it on something as boring as grocery shopping seems criminal.

Harry's arms tighten a little around his middle, then relax. "I suppose we ought to get up at some point, though."

"I guess so," Eggsy says. He slides down a little on the sheets, leaning more of his weight on Harry's chest. He can see them in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, two naked men sitting back to front, their legs making one shape beneath the sheet.

Harry turns his head so he can rest his cheek on Eggsy's hair. "Yes," he murmurs.

"Really should," Eggsy says. He shifts his shoulders a little, getting more comfortable. Settling in, one might say.

"Later?" Harry says hopefully. Behind the bespoke suits and the amazing hands, he's such a fucking romantic.

"I guess," Eggsy says. He laughs a little, but kindly; he has no mocking irony for those men in the mirror. "We're quite a pair, ain't we?"

"I think so," Harry replies. He sounds somber enough, but he's smiling a little, a soft thing Eggsy can see in the mirror and feel on his hair. "That which we are, we are."

It has the sound of a quote. Something Eggsy ought to have learned in school but wasn't paying attention to. Still, he likes it. It fits. It's totally them. "Yeah, we are," he says.

Harry says nothing to that. Just sits there, holding him, his breath stirring Eggsy's hair.

Eggsy traces the silver of the band around Harry's finger and sighs with contentment.

This is life.

He'll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the poem "Ulysses" by Alfred Tennyson.


End file.
